Thank you for joining me on this journey. It's never been easy, and I don't ever expect it to be. There may be times when you don't agree with me, and that's OK. Never be afraid to share your feelings with me, that's what I'm here for and what has kept me going. I'm not a licensed professional, but I have more than 20 years experience with mental illness.
You can find our podcast, Voices for Change 2.0 at
www.blogtalkradio.com/leftofstr8

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

To the Girl Who Gave Me the ECG, Being Sad Doesn’t Mean You’re Bipolar

For
the last couple of months, I’ve been facing some additional health concerns.
Not necessarily mental health related, although the stress from them has
certainly impacted me in a negative way. My family has a history of high blood
pressure and heart disease. Both my parents have/had high blood pressure, my
mom had congestive heart failure, and my sister was just diagnosed with it as
well.

So,
when I started to realize that they were taking my blood pressure multiple
times every time I went to the doctor, and it was always at least a little
high, I started to pay attention. Suddenly, I was waking up every single day
with a headache, and my right foot, ankle, and calf were often very swollen.
So, my dad bought me a blood pressure monitor, and I started watching it
closely. It was never normal. Literally high every time I took it. The day I
went to the doctor, it was 182/99. When I Googled that, they said that was call
an ambulance level.

So,
I went to the doctor and he just happened to have a couple of young girls there
performing ECG’s and EKG’s that day. I got lucky, I suppose. They were nice
enough girls, but sometimes when you’re in your 40’s, you forget you aren’t in
your 20’s anymore, and that you really have nothing in common with the younger
generation, so I did a lot of nodding and smiling. My husband was with me, and
went to go get some blood work done, then came back to the room.

They
were using the same goop they use when they give you an ultrasound, which I’ve
experienced only to look at whether I have an ovarian cyst, not because I’ve
had a baby. These young girls chatted away about their appointments, and how I
smelled good. I had to roll over on my left side at one point, and I had fallen
on it in the shower earlier that week, so it was a struggle.

I
watched the screen thinking about all the times I had watched Teen Mom and 16
and Pregnant, and laughed about how it looked like a baby. I’m on the heavier
side, and I was incredibly self-conscious lying there topless with essentially
a large piece of paper draped over myself, as the tech chatted away and poked
me with the glowing death stick of pain as I came to know it. I made some kind
of comment about how hot it was in the room and being overweight you’re always
kind of hot. Nobody knew what to say, so I went on a bit about how I had lost
some weight, but being bipolar, I got really depressed and stopped taking care
of myself.

The
girl poking me painfully actually said outloud, “Oh my God, girl! I KNOW what
you mean! I swear I am bipolar. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Seriously, I had this other
job, and every night I would get home from work and be so sad, and my boyfriend
was like…you aren’t DOING anything with your life, that’s why.”

I
was floored. I went through a million things in my head. The room was dark, but
I tried to look over her at my husband, knowing he would be in the corner of
the room ready to tear her a new one. I could’ve said a million things. I
could’ve told her she was lucky she could work, as I couldn’t. I could have
said, you’re in the medical field and you’re comparing your day to day sadness
about having a crappy job with bipolar disorder. I could have said so much, and
yet I said nothing.

I
had many reasons for not saying a word. The first was that based on their
previous conversations, it would go in one ear and out the other. However, the
main reason was I was just so damn shocked that a young woman trained in the
medical field could possibly know so damn little. All she did was further the
stigma of mental illness and she was totally oblivious. Usually I’m pretty good
with thinking on my feet, but I wasn’t on my feet. I was lying on a table half
naked and decided that now would be a good time to practice the theory of
“picking your battles”.

Once
I got home, I started thinking about starting a petition that all high school
and college students be required to take at least a mental health awareness
course. I did start that petition, and it’s making the rounds online but not
getting the attention I feel it deserves, so I’ll include the link here.
Perhaps, if we can get to them early enough, they’ll know not to say ignorant
things to people that truly do have health conditions that aren’t humorous.

I
hope you’ll consider signing it, and not just for someone like me. For the
little girl with Autism or the man with Schizophrenia that can’t fight for
themselves. I wish I had been able to speak up and tell that young girl how
wrong she was, but I guess I haven’t come to that point in my journey yet.
There will be a day when I finally know exactly what to say, and I’ll be sure
it gets said. You can count on that.

About Me

I have been happily married to the man of my dreams for 15 years. We have 5 cats that we adore, and a little house that we are renovating. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder at 19. It has been a constant struggle in my life, and has caused a great deal of turmoil.

Despite my illness, my husband has stayed by my side and I have learned to grow from my challenges. I am now a published author and my book is available on Amazon!